Braided garlic, wooden stakes, vials of holy water, the shopping bags of supplies rattled in the back of the StationMaster. Ronny fiddled with the radio dial. Regan slapped his fingers.

“Focus on the road, Sherlock. Your last shortcut wasted twenty minutes and rattled my spine.”

Ronny grumbled while his assistant Regan selected the Taylor Swift channel on Spotify. They had left the god-awful back roads and made their way back to the highway. Ronny loved to disagree with the GPS. Once he had missed the entire state of Pennsylvania and called her from Maryland completely frazzled.

The bouncy beat of “Bad Blood” filled the station wagon. The pair tapped to the music.

“You’re the reason we are behind schedule to meet the client. Our first juicy case in weeks and it involves D’Angelo, the Central Jersey vampire patriarch. And you want to offend his entire flock smelling of garlic—“ Ronny groused.

“Wait what do you mean his entire flock? We are meeting in a neutral spot right? You’re not delivering us to a vampiric lair right?” Regan said.

Her skin prickled. For a paranormal investigator, Ronny Drinkwater was surprisingly trusting. Honest and earnest, he saw the best in people even undead people.

“Lucian said D’Angelo wanted to discuss a very high level private matter with us. Lucian hinted it is about these vamps in the news that have gone missing lately. The vampires are shaking in their coffins and want a real pro.”

Ronny swerved the car when Regan slapped him upside his forehead.

“Pull over at the next exit. I have to think.”

Regan tented her fingers. Lucian was vamp informant and willing to make friends with anyone with a Jackson or a pint of O positive. Regan also knew he was a gambler and D’Angelo was among other things a bookie. Ronny was right the vampire community was shook about the missing vampires. Some powerful creatures had been taken without a trace. Only a playing card left where they were last seen. Why ask for Ronny?

Ronny took the exit as Regan punched a new destination into the GPS. In a few minutes they pulled up in front of a WaffleHouse. Ronny was the epitome of confusion. It’s a good thing they were best friends or she would punch his lights out.

“So here’s the deal Sherlock. Text the vamp we will meet them here in the WaffleHouse it’s a house we have to invite them in that way we can control how many vampires are around us. And this is HellHound terrority so the vamps won’t want to stir up shit on werewolf land.”

Regan loaded her big backpack with stakes and holy water. Next, she fished her revolver with silver plated bullets out of the glove compartment. Regan took in Ronny’s crest fallen countenance as they put in their comm devices.

She draped a rope of garlic around his neck.

“I don’t think Lucian would set us up.” Ronny said. “You don’t trust anyone.”

Regan slipped her gun into her waistband.

“I trust you. Trust me now. I’m heading to the roof.”

Ronny shook his head as her retreating back and retrieved his battle axe from the backseat just to be on the safe side.